heavy breathing of the negro. He was seated on the edge of the bed,
his black face showing a greenish tint, and revealing puzzled
amazement, with wide-opened eyes staring blankly at Haines, who stood
motionless before the fire.

"Whut wus dat yer sed, Mister Haines?" he asked thickly. "You say as
how Missus Rene Beaucaire is a slave, sah? Pears like I don't just
rightfully understan'."

"Still that is true, Pete," and the lawyer lifted his head and surveyed
us both. "She is the illegitimate daughter of Delia, Judge Beaucaire's
housekeeper; her father was Adelbert Beaucaire, the Judge's only son.
No one knows where he is, dead or alive."

"De good Lord! An' de ol' Jedge never set her free?"

The lawyer shook his head, words evidently failing him.

"But are you absolutely certain of this?" I broke in impatiently.
"Have you searched the records?"

"Not only searched them, Knox, but, before he left for the north on
this last trip, Beaucaire was in my office, and I practically forced
him to acknowledge the negligence. He even authorized me to draw up
the necessary papers for him to sign on his return--for both Delia and
the girl. They are in my desk now, unexecuted. There is no
mistake--Rene is legally a slave, together with her mother."

"My God!" I exclaimed. "What an indictment of slavery. Could anyone
conceive a more horrible position! Here is a young girl, educated,